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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770802">The Chalice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Casual Sex, F/M, Light Angst, On the Run, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:28:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Solomon Wreath is on the run from the Sanctuary after the whole "Stream of Life" business blew up. Trying to regain some of his power, he attempts to steal a couple of artefacts. Things don't work out as he planned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Solomon Wreath/You, solomon wreath/oc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Chalice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>something of a test lol<br/>wrote this fiction like five years ago but maybe someone will enjoy anyhow?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The castle was black against the setting sun, perching on the cliff like a withered man over his age-old stamp collection. A gravelled trail wound up to the massive gates, both its huge wings almost invisible in the contrasting light.<br/>Tomorrow, this place would be crawling with clan-members, as good as sealed to non-family. But yet, Gwenneth hadn’t heard. Probably, at least. Wreath sighed. He should have killed the man. It had been over a day now that he had squeezed the location of the chalice out of him, and the poor chap should be strapped securely to a sturdy pipe inside a forlorn motorway rest stop.</p><p><br/>Wreath glanced up at the castle again. Gwenneth couldn’t know. There was no way news had travelled this fast. Still he cursed himself for letting the man live. He was on the run for attempting to kill several billions of people. Why not add one actual death to the count?</p><p><br/>Because they weren’t really searching for him, he reminded himself. Not until he behaved in a way they couldn’t tolerate. Once he’d be looked for, hiding would be a great deal more bothersome. And Necromancer or not, stabbing a sobbing man crouching on the grimy tiles of what had once been a public convenience was not his style.<br/>He contemplated shadow-walking up to the castle but discarded the idea seconds later. The castle was well protected. There was no way he’d just shadow-walk in without raising any alarms. Besides, shadow-walking would make him look suspicious in the most likely case that he was already being watched.</p><p><br/>No, he decided; his best shot at getting in was striding up in plain sight and knocking loudly on the front door. For all he knew Gwenneth, she would open.<br/>He heard the sea crush against the jagged cliffs and as he got closer, he could make out the work the salty waters had done to the rough-hewn foundations.<br/>He knocked.</p><p><br/>For a while nothing happened; then a smaller door built into one of the wings opened and gave sight to a slender, gracious woman seemingly in her thirties. She was wearing a bathing gown tied with an embroidered sash. Her hair, still slightly wet, tumbled playfully over her shoulders. Her features showed a tinge of both, delight and surprise.<br/>“Why Solomon!” A smile stole onto her face. “What a wonderful coincidence! I have been wondering where in the world you bogged down so badly you couldn’t ever come and visit my poor lonely soul! What brings you here?”<br/>“The remembrance of a woman as fair as the time I spent with her.”<br/>She laughed. “In some distress, aren’t you?”<br/>He raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think?”<br/>“I know what you’re after.”<br/>His heart fell.</p><p><br/>“You need shelter. Roarhaven is looking for you, aren’t they?” She stepped aside to let him pass. “You are in luck.”<br/>He bowed teasingly, back at ease. “My many thanks, milady.”<br/>After he had deprived himself of his coat in the cloakroom, she guided him into a large living room, exquisitely furnished with dark old cupboards and cabinets and a giant sofa coated with purple velvet.<br/>She turned. “Would you like a drink?” She didn’t wait for his answer but went over to a display of glassware, taking out a set of goblets and returned.<br/>“Your servant has retired?” Wreath asked, remembering the old man excelling himself in his eagerness to provide her with every trifle she could possibly desire. It would simplify his task with the chalice if he knew she was alone.<br/>“Ah well, a spell caught him last winter. Gave me the crawlies the way he just yapped and dropped.” She shrugged. “You must really like it here. I can’t even remember how many of these doters have died on me. Not to mention all my dear sweet family buried beneath our feet.”<br/>“The place has its bright sides.” Wreath admitted.<br/>She nodded. “But for a decent soul like me it can be quite dreary.”</p><p><br/>She placed the goblets on a little table in front of the sofa and went to another cupboard to fetch a bottle.<br/>“Actually, I was hoping to stay for a bit. Maybe I can help make the days more takeable,” he said. Of course, that was a blunt lie.<br/>She turned. “And I have half a mind of accepting the noble offer, too.” She placed the bottle on the table. She was so close to him now he could smell the scent of violets on her hair. He felt her fingers lightly touch his side and he caught her hands, gently pulling her up so that the peaks of her softly curved breasts were lightly stroking his chest. He could sense the hardened buds of her bosom through the wispy robe and the crisp fabric of his own shirt.<br/>Without letting go of his hands, she took a little step back, a hint of a smile glinting around her eyes. Her grasp on him sidled up to his elbows. Wordlessly he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her in to kiss her. He felt the tip of her tongue brush his lips and her hands on his sides and he could make out the warm, brisk scent of her freshly washed skin. Her hair was ever so soft to the touch.<br/>She ran her fingers down his shirt, untucked it, slightly pulling it up so that she could grasp his bared hips. His hand trailed down her shoulder to her chest, fiddling with the ornate neckline of her bathing robe while her thumb found its way through the placket of his shirt. The first button was undone.</p><p><br/>He found the bow where the sash was tied and just as he had taken one loose end, she pushed him backwards onto the sofa -and the knot was undone. She stood in front of him, her robe loosely flowing around her, showing off her exquisite frame and the pearl coloured briefs she was wearing.<br/>A smile formed on his lips as she sat down, one leg kneeling on the sofa, one across his lap. With the heel of her hand she pushed him down, her fingers stroking his chest with the flowing movement.<br/>She bent over him, kissing his neck, his chest, her fingers swiftly unbuttoning his shirt as she went.<br/>She looked up, hair dangling into her face and down and he brushed it aside as he reached for her breasts.<br/>Somewhere on the sidelines he vaguely registered her fiddling with his belt and then she bent down again and her lips parted and he could feel her hot, wet mouth take him in. He shuddered, breathing out and burying his hands in her hair. Her tongue ran him up and down and agitated, unable to put his mind into what he was doing, he felt across her shoulders with sweeping movements, searching her glowing hot body for he-never-knew-what.<br/>And then she paused.</p><p><br/>Eagerly, he grasped for her, tucking at her briefs and she slipped them off and got on top of him. She started moving, gently, up and down, her face excited with strain and pleasure. Her arms pushed into the cushions as she heightened speed and depth.<br/>His lust was almost unbearable when she slowed. She was close to him now, almost lying down on him and with one fleet movement, he turned her around, drawing sharp breath as he dove into her. She gasped, raking her fingers across the padding of the sofa to get a better grip and she pushed herself towards him, again and again.<br/>He could see her tense features, her gritted teeth, then her eyes screwed shut, her mouth opened, gave a sigh, still in full movement. He could feel her contract and shiver and he thrust himself into her, drawing back and forth finally gushing out with zest.</p><p>For a minute or so, neither of them did or said anything. Then she sat up and reached for the bottle that was still sitting on the table, a silent, polite watcher. She opened it and poured the two glasses of rich red wine, one of which she handed him.<br/>She smiled.<br/>“To a most enjoyable time.” She raised her glass and took a sip. He did the same, trying not to sip too thirstily.<br/>She put her glass back on the table and rested her head on her arms, elbows on her drawn-up knees. He put his glass back on the table. Still she was looking at him expectantly.<br/>He was about to pose a question on the matter when he realised it. A grave mistake.<br/>The world had already begun to spin when he opened his mouth to talk. He closed it. His tongue felt heavy.<br/>His muzzy gaze finally caught sight of the glass she had raised to her mouth. Still as full as when she had poured it. He tried to steady himself but there was nothing he could do to stop his vision from dimming.<br/>She caught him before he fell headlong off the sofa. Soft hands. The smell of violets. Darkness.</p><p>He woke in a ditch. He was thirsty and he had a headache. It was already dawning and it was fairly cold. Groaning, he sat up. His coat that had been spread over him fell off his shoulders.<br/>He looked at the castle in the distance, closed his eyes and sighed. So much for the chalice.<br/>At least his cane was beside him and seemingly none of his belongings had been taken.<br/>What a rookie’s mistake. He shook his head and regretted it instantly.<br/>Still he had to admit, on a list of several of his adversaries, Gwenneth ruled the top spot.</p>
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